Chapter Text
Meanwhile, in the MHA world—
After the U.S.J. incident, U.A. began looking into ways to make the school even more secure.
This was the first time it had been attacked in a hundred years, and if they had any say in it, it would also be the last.
In the meantime, people kept talking.
Rumors spread.
Gossip refused to die.
Watching all of it unfold through his phone was Dokja.
He scrolled quietly, reading headlines, comments, speculation.
And as he did, he began to think.
…In my previous world, this level of attention would have already pushed their Fable into Myth grade, he reflected.
But here, there are far more people. Far more noise.
It takes many more readers to elevate a Fable to Myth—or even Legendary.
His thumb paused on the screen.
And more importantly…
People aren’t focusing on the ones who survived.
They’re focused on the invasion itself.
The event.
Not the stories born from it.
Dokja exhaled softly, eyes narrowing.
This world played by different rules.
Not that he didn’t already know.
Dokja turned slightly and found Hajin doing the same thing—scrolling through the news on his phone, eyes fixed on the screen.
“How long do you think these news will last?” Hajin asked, sensing Dokja’s gaze without looking up.
“…Considering this is the first incident,” Dokja replied, “and maybe the first event of a new story… a month. Maybe two. Before it gets pushed aside by newer ones.”
Hajin finally looked up from his phone.
“That long?”
He stayed silent for a few seconds, then let out a small breath.
“No… you’re probably right.”
“You were transferred late, near the ending of your world’s story, right?” Dokja asked.
Hajin nodded.
“Then it’s obvious,” Dokja continued calmly.
“In your world, many similar events had already happened. People got used to them.”
Used to disasters.
Used to stories being written.
Dokja’s eyes returned to the screen, understanding written plainly between the lines.
Hajin just nodded. Dokja was right.
“I’m used to being inside these events,” Hajin said quietly, “or being close to the ones the events revolve around.”
“But you don’t know them,” Dokja replied. “This is the first time in a while you’ve been able to watch something like this from afar, right?”
“…Yeah.” Hajin gave a small, dry laugh. “I admit it. Not being worried about the people involved, not feeling exhausted by the event—it’s strange. I was starting to get used to those feelings.”
He paused.
“On the other hand, the fact that I find this boring says a lot about how much sh*t I’ve been through.”
“And you?” Hajin asked.
“Yes and no,” Dokja answered. “I used to watch events because people I cared about were involved. And… it’s been a long time since I’ve watched something that didn’t include someone I cared about.”
The two looked at each other.
Kindred spirits.
They didn’t need to say it out loud.
[Attribute “Returner” is communicating with the Returner attribute of Hajin.]
They nodded once, in mutual understanding, and turned their attention to the door as it slowly opened.
At the door stood their teacher—Hanks.
Behind him was another man.
He had dark rings beneath grey eyes, ash-grey hair, and metallic grey wings extending from his back. The wings didn’t look organic; they seemed forged, shaped from metal rather than flesh.
Many students didn’t know why, but they could feel it.
This was someone important. Someone who would cause things to move.
Almost instinctively, the class grew more serious.
“Students?” Hanks asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I haven’t even told you what we’re doing today. Why are you all so serious?”
He paused, then shrugged.
“Well, I guess this is the right mood for today anyway.” He stepped aside. “This is Ryuu Ryosuke. He’s from the government. He’s here to speak with you.”
Hanks moved behind Ryuu and waved lazily.
“He’ll be the one teaching you today. As for me—I’m taking a break. Bye.”
He grinned and left.
Ryuu stepped forward.
“Good morning, students,” he said calmly. “I am not a teacher. However, I am the most qualified person to speak about this topic, which is why I was chosen.”
He looked over the room, his gaze sharp and measured.
“Today’s subject is Quirk usage.”
“Your fellow students of Class 1-A used their Quirks to defend themselves. Under normal circumstances, this should have been illegal.
Yes, they are hero students—but they are still students. They do not yet possess Provisional Hero Licenses. That exam is still far ahead. Without it, the use of their Quirks in real combat situations would normally be a crime.
Fortunately, the incident occurred at U.S.J.—a facility specifically designated for Quirk training. That location legally allows the use of Quirks even without a license.”
He continued speaking for a while, explaining laws, exceptions, and regulations.
But as he spoke, the students began to feel something strange.
It was as if the space around them was becoming… heavier.
Then, as if to confirm that what they were feeling was real, he suddenly stopped talking.
And something else appeared in front of every student.
[📜 Main Scenario #?? : Angel of Knowledge — Part 1]
[In many worlds and stories, angels have given humans divine messages and teachings.
This is a world with mana, and you were once in one governed by different laws regarding it.
The Watchers who once descended to gift mankind with forbidden wisdom have appeared once more.
Choose your teacher. Their gift will shape your future.
Unfortunately, only one Angel among them possesses the power and ego to descend.
Main Objective:
Receive his teachings.
Adapt and awaken the use of mana.
Failure Conditions: Corruption of body or spirit.
Death before initiation is complete.
Time Limit:
10 days.
Reward:
Unlock [Magic Power] stat.
Awaken one [Mana Affinity].
Skill related to the angel’s teaching.
Possible awakening of a [Fable].
Eligibility for Part 2 of this scenario.
Failure Reward:
Mana berserk.]
Dokja felt the Star Stream creating the scenario before it even appeared in front of him and his classmates.
In front of him, he could see their temporary teacher synchronizing with his constellation—with the Angel itself.
He could feel a Fable forming, giving shape and personality to the constellation. Dokja focused on his connection with the Star Stream, on his senses, and realized it was helping the constellation be born.
In this world, a constellation should still have been in the process of forming. Yet here was one with a clear ego.
That ego should not have existed yet—after all, the Star Stream and Fables had not existed here for long.
The only reason this constellation already possessed an ego was because it was being assisted by the Star Stream itself.
All of it—for this exact scenario.
Now this led to a question.
How important was this scenario, for the Star Stream to intervene so directly?
Especially now, when it was not even at full power.
Dokja decided not to think about it. He lacked clues, lacked context. For now, the only sensible choice was to wait and observe.
The Angel now inhabiting Ryuu’s body, began to walk slowly, as if confirming the reality of his existence—checking the weight of a corporeal form, the sensation of movement, the fact that he was truly here.
Then he smiled.
And just as quickly, the expression vanished, replaced by solemn seriousness.
He turned to face the students.
The students themselves had finally found the time to recover from the shock.
Most were still surprised, but they forced themselves to remain calm. Even if this was far beyond what they had expected, they could feel it—something was about to happen. That faint premonition made them more prepared than they would normally be.
With that, all eyes turned to him.
“I am your teacher of magic,” the man said calmly. “I am an Angel who will reveal to your minds truths that lie outside the reach of mortal thought.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“I am Semyaza. Remember this name. I am the Angel who will teach you.”
At the same time, a message appeared.
[Constellation “Leaders of the Watchers” is watching you]
As the message surfaced, a fraction of the Angel’s power leaked from his body. The change was immediate. His presence became overwhelming—holy, absolute, as if standing before something incapable of evil by its very nature.
Dokja shifted slightly and observed the others.
Half of them looked impressed. Their widened eyes, stiff posture, carefully controlled breathing—it was all an act. He could tell.
The other half, however, was genuinely captivated. Awe filled their expressions, their attention completely seized, as if they were witnessing something sacred for the first time.
Dokja narrowed his eyes.
This wasn’t just teaching. Or at least not Just.
This was influence as well.
He wants to teach us. Then, once we feel grateful, we would search his name, Dokja thought.
And by doing that, they wouldn’t find only his name—but also the name of the Angel he led. By searching for them, by thinking about them, they would unknowingly accelerate the process by which those Angels formed their ego.
The constellation’s sense of self would mature far faster than it should have.
It was subtle. Elegant.
The others—the ones who weren’t truly impressed—felt something similar, even if they couldn’t put it into words. They sensed that there had to be a price, some kind of exchange. They just didn’t know what it was yet.
The cost was small.
Only attention.
But even that was still a cost.